


for the taking

by kurooos



Series: Lose My Mind [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Modification, Fake Character Death, Humiliation, Knotting, Lots of Cum, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Mind Games, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9978560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: Lance is given to Prince Lotor as a gift. Well, he isn't the nicest gift to receive, pushing all of his limits and trying to escape. Lotor will just have to fix that and make Lance his, even if he has to do it by force.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am engaged to commas. We are very happy together. Very happy.

It did not matter how many ships and soldiers Lotor had under his command. Everywhere he turned, Voltron would show up and ruin his plans. Voltron would defeat the robeasts Haggar made for him, if barely. Even now, a number of his ships being destroyed in a matter of minutes was setting everything back by months.

Point being, Lotor wasn't having the best week. His irritation kept climbing, his desire to see the paladins of Voltron destroyed and broken pushed past each peak of self control.

He had decided, today, he would sit and think; he would devise plans and strategies in order to counter Voltron and its recent victory.

"My Prince, Commander Zhalar has much pleasing news and gifts."

Finally, Lotor thought, something to perk up the bland day. He fixed his gaze on the kneeling soldier in front of him, cheek resting on his fist.

"Go on. Bring it in, I will hear what he has to say after."

The soldier blinked in surprise, starting to stumble over his words. He looked nervous, eyes darting behind himself and then back to Lotor.

"Well. My Prince, the gift is. uh. Unruly."

"I do not have all day." He hissed, setting the Galra into motion. The soldier bowed with a quick affirmation and left the throne room. Lotor sighed as he leaned back into chair.

The hallways outside of the room suddenly burst into noise, loud and full of scuffling hands and clothes and spit words. The racket caught Lotor's attention, even more so when three soldiers dragged in what he was assuming to be his gift. And oh, was Lotor delighted: the blue paladin.

The paladin, despite being just about chest height with the Galra carrying him, was giving the soldiers a rough time, vicious in trying to yank free as well as yell threats. Lotor wondered how long the paladin had been in their possession, how long had he been fighting, seeing as he was still not put in restraints. It was a very peculiar situation.

The soldiers roughly handled the paladin up the steps and then shoved him down to his knees. Lotor had never been this close to any of the paladins except for the red one. The red and blue paladins were of the same species yet looked worlds apart.

The prize in front of him was beautiful. His skin was dark, smooth and soft-looking for wherever Lotor laid eyes, he wondered how the paladin looked under the armor, how he could have kept his skin so perfect. Lotor's teeth ground together in want to mar the flawless canvas in front of him.

A yelp from the paladin broke the prince from his reverie, watching the soldiers wrench the paladin's arms behind his back and grab his hair roughly, holding his head up as well as reaching around his throat to hold his jaw firmly, forcing the paladin to look directly at Lotor. That made him quiet, eyes now drawn onto the prince lounging in front of him.

Those eyes were filled with malice, so much heat and fight that it flickered like a flame. Lotor could tell he was frightened though, it was given away in the heavy pants and rise and fall of his chest, in the way his legs softly trembled from exertion and exhaust under him, the jumping pulse in his neck.

"When I am brought gifts I recieve wealth and tokens of the death of my enemies, not pretty trinkets."

The end of Lotor’s foot moved out to tap against the paladin’s jaw, slightly turning his head so that Lotor could look more. The comment had the paladin's brows drawing together in confusion. He looked like he might actually have something to say were it not for the big hand under his mouth, clamping down. Nonetheless, the soft flush of blood to his cheeks did not go unnoticed.

Grinning, Lotor stood from his throne to approach but paused. The paladin, in a remarkable surge of energy, threw himself forward as much as possible and kicked back, it landed into one of the soldier's legs.

The hand in his hair had released and suddenly he was a live wire, easily slipping out of claws and strongholds. Every blow he dealt out landed with accuracy and power, causing the small group in front of Lotor to momentarily be in disarray as the soldiers struggled to grab onto the paladin.

The paladin, however, was much more slippery than originally thought. One moment he was battering away hands and the next he was halfway to the door. However, his bright armor stood out on the darkened floors and faded pink lights, making him a moving target.

The soldiers were too tangled up to go catch the escaped captive, they wouldn't get to him in time. It had been long since the prince had to do any physical fighting, real running after an enemy, since he had soldiers to do it for him. But the thrill of chasing something was one like no other. Instincts taking over, Lotor rushed off the stairs.

It gave him a burst of adrenaline, a snarl escaping his lips as he brought the paladin down by the door. Lightning quick he had a knee pressed into the soft vulnerable part of the paladin's lower back, leaning heavily on it so that if he needed to he could break his spine, prevent him from running again; or at least that was the intended threat. His hands occupied just one of the paladin's arms, wrenched low and twisted sharply.

The paladin under him winced, squirming as if it would somehow get him free. Lotor sat there, pushing long hair out of his face with his free hand as an amused laugh bubbled up from his chest.

"I will say, you are a much more engaging gift than money or heads."

The paladin under him scoffed in reply, eyes rolling as he glared out into the empty hallway beyond the door as if longing for the freedom right there. Lotor was amazed with the strong rise and fall of the paladin's back, were it not for the tough armor he could feel the paladin's muscles and lungs work and strain.

"What is your name?" Lotor asked, wanting something more than just 'paladin' to call the captive under him. Lotor watched as the paladin turned his gaze, a small smile on his face as he met the prince's eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

His tone was flirtatious, a lilt to it that had Lotor hesitating. The soldiers from behind seemingly got their wits about them and rushed over, a bit too late to be any help. They looked ready to tear into the paladin under the prince but paused, standing at attention to the sides.

"He isn't any trouble." Lotor insists, glancing up at the glaring soldiers. The soldiers didn't move, stares focused on the prey already caught, Lotor's blood grew warm with possessiveness.

"That means I want you gone." Lotor growled, twisting the paladin's arm under him further and causing him to curse. The pained noise worked better than his words, sending the soldiers to leave the room.

Now alone, and more than a little irritated, he turned his attention back down to the paladin, ready to force the paladin’s name out of him if needed.

"Ease up on the wringing of my arm, dude, it's not a sham-wow. I kind of need that attached to my body."

Lotor had half the mind to want to ask what a shamwow was and the other half to spite him and twist his arm completely away from his body. He opted for neither. The paladin definitely had a knack for talking. If he wanted to talk, fine.

"Let's compromise, then. You tell me your name, and I'll let go."

The paladin began again, started spewing something worthless for Lotor to hear and so Lotor pressed down on his back, prompting his babbling into an actual answer, “Lance,” whimpered and tense.

"There," he purred, releasing Lance's arm, "now we both got what we wanted, Lance."

Lotor pushed himself off the ground, standing and brushing himself off as he stepped over Lance.

Lance was quick once he wasn’t restrained, up to his feet in a flash and amazingly outmaneuvering the arm Lotor tried to use to catch him. Lotor expected it, used his other hand to grab the back of Lance's paladin armor and yank him back with a frustrated growl. He was not about to go on a chase through the ship.

"I really wish you would listen." He sighed, narrowly dodging the sudden elbow flying at his face. He didn't want to fight with Lance, there wasn't any benefit to breaking his toys right after getting them.

Lotor tightened his grip on Lance, kept holding tighter and tighter until the human's body leaned into the prince for mercy. Lance winced, free hand holding onto Lotor's wrist tightly as if he could give as much strength, to get Lotor to let go. Instead, Lotor held on tighter, growled until Lance's legs wobbled with the pain. Oh god his arm was going to be crushed at this point.

"Stop! Stop!" He pleaded, placating Lotor's anger for a moment. The prince lightened up the hold before grabbing Lance’s jaw.

"Run again and I will take away those unnecessary legs of yours, paladin."

Lotor took Lance's silence as agreement.

* * *

Lance came to know how cruel the Galra could be, specifically Lotor. The Galra were a brutal race, willing to enslave hundreds of species and exploit them for labor, for entertainment, and what Lance learned later, food. The Galra were worse than originally thought, at least with Zarkon ruling he only wanted Voltron, wanted loyalty. But Lotor didn't seem to have a motive. There was no deep desire to conquer, no want to gain more knowledge; it was all for sport.

Lotor ran on instincts, on following what he wanted within the spur of the moment. With that attitude Lance hoped that maybe he would be reckless, unable to plan and see the bigger picture of what he was doing. However, Lotor proved to be extremely intelligent, constantly overseeing what was happening and being discussed in the empire. Even the things Lance wasn’t directly involved with, he knew about in great detail, eyes and ears planted everywhere, in every ship and every group. Those who testing Lotor, too, were immediately dealt with, punished or killed.

Lance had pushed his boundaries, fought tooth and nail to both annoy and give the soldiers a hard time when they dealt with him.

Lance also called Lotor's bluff when he had run off, gotten as far as to the hangar with ships he could escape with, yet was caught anyway; electricity had surged through him as he was climbing into a pod, all of his muscles seizing and bringing him hard to the floor with a scream.

His legs weren't cut off, but he was whipped, hung up in a room and punished like a rebelling galra, no food and water for three days. His back was a mess of bloody criss crossed lines by the end of it all, fresh blood dripping hotly down his back and hunger making him dizzy.

Yet, despite the threats, Lance tried to get away again and again. Every time he was caught, no matter what he tried it was hopeless. Running only brought more pain and more blood. The Galra began to expect him escaping, they wanted it to happen.

Lotor was growing tired of him, though. In the beginning, Lotor was entertained that Lance kept pushing and pushing. Lance’s determination was something to admire but after a while it was tedious to deal with, the worry that other Galra would look to Lance as an example of the Prince being soft was rising.

Lance was sent to the druids with a simple demand of "Fix him. I want him to obey." He was left alone with them, only bound in electromagnetic handcuffs. A camera sat in the room, watching every move he made, broadcasted it to commanding officers in the empire so that they may show it to their soldiers.

Lance fought, managed to knock one of the creepy dark bastards into the wall before he felt heat yank him down to the floor. His head buzzed, ears ringing with a shrill vibration and, like sand  slipping through fingers, he passed out.

Waking up from that was slow. He was tired, druid magic was absolutely exhausting to deal with it seemed. Blinking up at the dull ceiling came with registering something cold and heavy behind him and over him like a blanket. It was thick and uncomfortable, making pressure well under his temples and behind his jaw. It almost felt like lead was clogged in his veins, weighing him down in every inch of his body.

When he turned his head, he was surprised at seeing Lotor reclining on the other side of the room. The prince looked bored, staring at Lance, waiting for him to wake up.

When Lance tried to say something, make a comment about being sleeping beauty, his voice got caught. His mouth moved yet he heard nothing. Lotor smiled.

"Sit up, Lance."

Immediately Lance’s body moved, legs swinging over the table with his hands by his sides to support himself. He looked down at his body, not understanding what was happening. Had he not just been strapped down?

Lance was too busy trying to sort things out he didn't notice the hand reaching towards him, cupping his cheek gently. He wanted to flinch away from it or slap Lotor's hand yet he was frozen in place. He looked up, met Lotor's eyes for once, scared.

"Come on, off the table."

Lotor's tone was gentle, as if he knew how unsettled Lance was and wanted to soothe him. Lance slipped off the table, standing in front of Lotor relaxed. Lotor drew closer and Lance shut his eyes, expecting... he didn't know what.

"Kneel." Lotor whispered, but the word shot through Lance dreadfully hot. He opened his eyes to stare at Lotor, in disbelief at what he was hearing, at his body bending to obey. Lance wanted to stay upright, he wanted to shove the prince away from him and yell. He wanted to scream but his body wasn’t listening to him.

He lowered, getting to his knees softly and without a noise of protest, eyes staying firmly on Lotor in disbelief. If Lance could move his mouth, he would do everything in his power to talk his way out of this or at least get an explanation of what happened to him. Lotor smiles again, eyes cruel, fingers now playing with soft brown hair.

"Open your mouth."

Lance stayed still for as long as he could but sharp pressure was building behind his eyes, his throat felt like closing up, his chest was going to cave in if he didn't just...open. Lotor's hand moved to his jaw, thumb pressing against the seam of his lips and his mouth fell open, his sob unheard. Lance’s eyes fell shut with shame, hot tears unable to fall.

"You see, Lance," Lotor slipped his thumb into Lance's mouth, rubbed over his tongue and teeth gently, made Lance's head weird and fuzzy with finally obeying, "you don't get to make things difficult anymore. I've grown tired of you costing me time."

Lotor’s claws pressed under the soft part of Lance's jaw, kept his head still, not like Lance could move anywhere.

"I wonder how long you'll continue to fight me, even like this." Lotor muttered in amazement, more to himself than Lance. Like a switch flipped, Lance could breathe easier, his muscles no longer stuck. He yanked himself away, a hand shoving Lotor by the hip, the prince stumbling back a step with a chuckle.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Lance stayed there on the floor, slightly leaned under the table to hide like the table above could somehow protect him. When Lotor looked down on him, Lance felt like his world was tilting on its axis. The sense of vertigo was sickening, more so than his vision blurring and shaking the way it was.

“Check for yourself.”

Lance’s hands moved now on their own, behind his head and to his neck without his choice. He expected to touch warm skin, smooth. Instead, his stomach fell into a pit as he brushed over something warm and metal, a bump over his spine. He was going to be sick, he could feel his fingers moving on...whatever it was. Whatever was back there it was attached to him, a part of him.

“Shall I tell you what that can do? Better yet, shall I show you?” Lotor asked, excitement obvious. Lance looked at him, eyes wide and letting the prince see every emotion running in his head. He’d not felt fear like this, something so unnatural and strange. Lance shook his head, wanting nothing more than to shut his eyes and realize this was a bad dream. Lotor didn’t even consider Lance’s denial.

“Stand up. Bend over the table.”

“Wait! Wait.” Lance begged, already getting up from his place on the floor and leaning over the cold metal. The chill clung to the front of his hips like a cruel reminder that he was doing this, he could do nothing to stop this.

His heart was racing, jumping further when Lotor’s warm hand trailed up his back. Lance could duck his head, press his face into the fold of his arms and blink away tears; Lotor was granting him freedom but not enough, not enough for him to run.

Lotor’s body was warm behind him, curled over his back heavily.

“You’re shaking so much. What happened to you fighting me? I’m vulnerable here.” Lotor taunted. He was right, Lance could move however he wanted, he was only stuck bent over like this. If he wanted he could kick back or reach around and punch Lotor but he was afraid of what more Lotor would take away from him after that, what would Lotor have the druids do to him then?

Lotor said nothing as Lance remained silent, but his fingers trailed over Lance’s neck softly, touched the metal attached to him and Lance gasped. His knees felt weak with the heat in his head, washing over him and sticking to every nerve. It was uncomfortable, something like an itch.

Something warm and wet began to trickle down his thighs, sticking the thin cloth the druids dressed him into his skin. He squirmed, uncomfortable and tried to look down at himself. His breath caught hard in his throat at the sight. Through the hazy, glittering view he had, he could very clearly see his stomach bulging, something _writhing_ inside. His eyes widened, the sensation of that coiling catching up with the visual. That was Lotor’s-

He squeezed his eyes shut hard and groaned, weak and cracking. He couldn’t scream, his body wouldn’t listen. Lotor hummed behind him, close to his ear and Lance’s stomach lurched dangerously. Lotor rocked his hips forward and the shifting of the hot squirming was in his stomach now, feeling like it was rearranging his insides to make room.

“Oh god,” He choked again, feeling the tentacle inside him pulse. God, this was Lotor’s dick, when did he even- fuck, oh _fuck_. There were ridges, or flared edges, something, inside branching off and rubbing at Lance’s walls pressing and kneading like they had an idea of what they were doing and where to touch. It was so hot, making Lance’s eyes roll back.

“Feel good?”

Lance didn’t want to answer, wanted to scream no, no, no. Instead his body jerked, pushed back to welcome another thrust, “Yes” he sobbed, voice wavering. His fingernails dug into his palms, to stop himself from scrambling at the table under him. Lance shouted as Lotor ground his hips in deep. Lance thought that possibly, maybe somehow and someway, Lotor’s dick was going to come curling out of his mouth. It was impossibly deep, like it was shoving up under his lungs and preventing him from inhaling. It drove him crazy, that he should be feeling sick at this yet wanted more, wanted bigger, hotter, faster.

Lotor grabbed his hips, fingers holding him tightly as he groaned. Lance felt the prince’s hair fan out over his back when he leaned his head down. The next moment, Lotor’s dick was stiffening up, bulging impossibly big inside of him. Lance’s hips hurt. He tried to spread his legs to accommodate, unable to do more than that and moan and gasp Lotor’s name. Heat began to pool inside of him, belatedly Lance realized Lotor was cumming. It kept coming and coming, filling him up full and then continuing. He whined, tried to scramble away from the increasing pressure. He was going to throw up, he was sure of it.

“Look down, Lance. Look at yourself and what a mess you are.”

He rose up on shaky arms, glancing down at his body, his stomach. The bulge was gone, his ability to see his skin was gone, replaced with the thin medical clothing the druids had put him in. Like water on his head he gasped. There was no more heat of Lotor’s cock inside him, of the prince cumming. Everything was gone….as if it- it never happened. None of it was real.

“I can make you see whatever I want, feel whatever I want you to feel, or not.”

Lotor ran his hand over Lance’s chest and with a panicked start, Lance watched it move, yet couldn't feel the slide of fabric on his skin, not the heat of the prince’s hand, the soft itch of the untreated fabric.

“Do you finally understand?” Lotor hissed, voice venomous before he grabbed a fistful of Lance’s hair, that Lance _did_ feel. He winced, unable to lean up and relieve the pressure, stuck bent over at the hips on the table.

With his other hand, Lotor shredded the flimsy cloth on Lance’s body, enjoying watching the goosebumps raise on his arms and back.

“It really is a shame they couldn’t do too much to you without risk of killing you.” Lotor says, disappointed as he runs his fingers bluntly over Lance’s hole, forewards over his balls and to his dick, hanging limply between his legs. Lance’s face burns hot in embarrassment at the clinical touches. Lotor’s hand moves back again, somehow wet, and his fingers push bluntly against Lance’s entrance. Panic seizes his chest, makes a rock in his throat and he quickly tries to stop Lotor.

“W-Wait. Wait!” He gasps, looking over his shoulder to try and find Lotor. To his surprise the prince stops, smiles at him now that they are looking at each other. Lance immediately feels put under, shameful at what he’s asking. “I don’t...I don’t want to feel it.” He mutters, unable to look Lotor in the eyes as he asks; he isn’t telling Lotor to stop touching him, he can’t ask that Lotor wouldn’t agree to it. But maybe, maybe the prince will do this for him, let Lance get through this without the physical memory of his touches.

Lotor hums like he’s considering it, rubbing small, smooth circles with his fingertips, taunting Lance with the sensation. After a moment he gives his answer in the form of slipping a finger inside, no warning given. Lance purses his lips together, to stop himself from begging Lotor to take it away, both his finger and the sensation of it. He whimpers when a second finger joins the first, the stretch is quick and burns. Lotor isn’t going slow enough to make it comfortable, it’s like he wants this to be painful, he wants to erase that previous memory of his cock feeling nice.

Lance forgets how long they stay like that, with Lotor’s fingers scissoring him open and thrusting in steady, strong strokes. The metal table under him is warm by the time Lotor’s fingers retreat.

The slide of slick warmth over his thigh doesn’t shock him. He’s been expecting it, waiting until Lotor deemed him ready. He stares off across the room, finds a corner and stares at it. He can’t zone out though, a block in his head preventing him from retreating. It’s the damn device on him, keeping his mind aware and alert of every touch. Lotor laughs behind him, notches the slippery tip of his dick against Lance’s hole and presses.

“Lotor, please,” he starts, he doesn’t even get the chance to say more. Lotor doesn’t listen, of course he doesn’t listen. He has both a point to prove and a punishment to dole out, an example to set.

Lotor’s dick curls around itself as it wriggles its way into him, stretching him further the deeper it goes. It feels nothing like the memory Lotor forced him through before. Lotor’s dick squirms as if it’s searching for a place to burrow through, to nestle inside of Lance and stay there. Lance presses his head against the table and moans brokenly.

That numbing pressure is back though, making his hips ache again and tears well up in his eyes. It wouldn’t be difficult to deal with if Lotor stays still, if he didn’t touch him gently, but Lotor starts to rocks his hips back and forth. With every draw back his cock tries to hook itself inside of Lance and stay buried there in the heat, the hard pressure drags over sensitive nerves and causes Lance to jerk and gasp, moans falling out of his mouth.

“If only the paladins could see you like this.”

Lance shakes his head, moaning again as the squirming tentacle inside of him doubles over itself. He’s going to be torn apart like this, and he won’t even be upset about it, it feels so good. He presses his forehead down onto the metal under him, sobs and moans fogging it.

Lotor touches the metal on his neck and Lance seizes, clutches hard at the table as he cums. It’s painful. It hurts, so suddenly and hot. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s screaming.

Lotor doesn’t stop, growls in pleasure as Lance tightens up around him. His cock coils up on itself, creates a thick curl at the base, a knot, before he cums into Lance.

Lance expects to feel his stomach distending again, that unbearable heat to fill up to the back of his throat. But Lotor doesn’t cum that much, of course not, no. Despite that, when Lotor pulls his cock out, the amount of cum that leaks out of Lance is unnerving. It’s way too hot, sticky and clinging to his skin as it crawls down the inside of his thighs, making Lance moan at the feeling.

But Lotor isn’t done with him quite yet. He takes one of Lance’s legs behind the knee and positions it up onto the table. For a brief second, Lance expects Lotor to tell him to crawl up onto the table but the prince leaves him like that. Stretched out like this up on one foot, he’s sure Lotor can see everything, his hole gaping and leaking is the main view. The worst part is that Lance wants something inside of him. He’s uncomfortably aware of how empty he is like this.

“You look filthy, pet.”

Lotor coos at him, palms both of Lance’s cheeks and pulls them apart, making it obvious where his attention was. Lance’s chest grows warm, his blush reaching the tips of his ears and now the top of his chest.

“I am going to fuck you again.” is all the warning Lance gets before Lotor’s cock is spearing him open again. His cries echo loud in the small room, bounce back at him as he’s fucked into the table. If it weren’t bolted down to the floor it would have been shoved up to the wall by now.

Lance sobs when Lotor’s cock curls into his prostate, continues to rub there and then reach further into him than before. Lance thinks it must be another trick in his head, but the way Lotor steps close over his remaining standing leg and grinds in deep… it can’t possibly be fabricated. Stars burst behind his eyes and his throat is growing dry from moaning and yelling so much.

His next orgasm crashes into him with barely any buildup. It isn’t forced out of him but it hurts all the same. Lance jerks, tries to scramble away as Lotor thrusts his hips into him more. Tears are running down his face, he’s unable to handle the sensation of it anymore. It’s incredibly good, way too good. It’s disgusting, he shouldn’t be enjoying this.

Lotor grunts and his sharp claws drag down Lance’s back. He’s cumming again, deeper than he was before and Lance purses his lips in panic, a startled noise croaking in his throat. He presses his face into the table, hoping that he’ll either pass out or Lotor will stop. It doesn’t.

It’s a vicious cycle, Lotor mostly quiet behind him as he fucks him over and over and over again. Lance loses track of time here, head scrubbed clean of any rational thought, with Lotor’s cock reaching deep into him and making his entire world white.

* * *

Lotor thought about sending a recording of Lance back to his friends of Voltron. Lotor also thought about broadcasting a session with him to the universe, making an example of just how brave and powerful the paladins were. He goes through almost a dozen files and video feeds; it’s druids touching curiously and twisting Lance into different positions, ignoring his threatening shouts and curses, it’s Lotor pushing Lance’s face into the floor and pounding into him until the paladin’s voice gives out, it’s videos of Lance pleading that he’ll listen and be good so long as the pain stops.

Lotor loves each video, every reaction is like a new one. Lance is hard to break and even harder to wrench a submissive reaction from, so much that Lotor at times has to rely on the device to bring images to Lance’s mind. He doesn’t seem to learn his lesson. Even with the druid’s new device, Lance is defiant, he has found loopholes in Lotor’s commands. Lance keeps the prince on his toes, even if within the moment he’s annoyed. Lance dares to be smug about it, giving Lotor looks when he manages to be a smartass. Lotor can’t say he hates it, but it does pluck at nerves, it serves to get him growling and rough with the fragile creature.

Lotor had decided to root through Lance’s head, he makes him tell him all about his life, how he grew up, where he grew up. Lotor is fascinated at the strong fondness and love Lance has for his family. It’s a big family, Lance tells him, warm and always talking. Lance starts to cry, soft sniffles and half-hearted swipes at his eyes as he tells Lotor about how much he misses them, and then how much he misses the other paladins of Voltron and their two Altean companions.

They’ve been away for a long time, with no way to contact Earth in fear of the Galra finding out about their planet. Lotor keeps the information he already knows to himself; the Galra know about Earth, have been to the planet before. It’s an advanced planet with an aggressive species attempting peace and equality, of course the Galra have knowledge of it.

Instead of telling Lance this, Lotor tells him he can go to Earth once more, without leaving any trail or evidence that he was there. Lance immediately shuts Lotor out, but the prince still sees the burning want in his eyes to go. Lotor tells him that he will take Lance home anyway.

It’s confusing for Lance, of course. He questions every word Lotor says, all up to when Lotor brings him down the dimly lit hall. They face a door to an experiment room and Lotor puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder. When the door opens Lance blinks curiously. Lotor knows the difference in what they see. Lotor stares at an empty room, a small table pushed off to the side; Lance sees a room with a pod centered in it, control panels and screens all along the walls.

“What is this?” Lance murmurs, stepping inside. Lotor keeps his mental connection between them, the illusion fabricated as real as Lotor can make it; the smell of sterile electronics is much different than the stale air Lotor actually smells, the room is stuffy and humid but Lance is already growing small bumps on the back of his neck and arms from the chill he thinks he feels.

“Step inside.” Lotor tells him, not pushing the command but leaving it open as a suggestion. Lance turns back and looks at him again, brows scrunched together in confusion. Of all the tricks he’s been through, Lance finds it hard to believe this is one as well. There has to be an ulterior motive to this.

“What is it?” He demands.

“A teleporter. It will take you to your home.”

Lance turns back around, approaches the nonexistent pod and reaches out. His fingers graze over the edge of the metal entrance and Lotor sighs in irritation. “Get inside,” he prompts and Lance makes a noise of surprise as he steps into the pod, he turns around and looks at Lotor then above himself, checking out the interior. It should be strange, able to watch two different scenes in front of him, but mentally, he knows what setting he has Lance in, that image overlaying the emptiness of the room they are in.

With a wave of Lotor’s hand the door slips shut and Lotor watches with clarity in how Lance looks around, unable to see. Lance suddenly puts an arm up in front of his eyes as if light was flashed and he steps back. When he slowly takes his arm away and opens his eyes, he’s staring at Lotor, or rather through him. Lance’s eyes are wide as he makes a step forward.

It’s his home. Lance looks down in disbelief at the grass he is standing on. It’s warm from the sun, a bit wet from dew but the feeling of it between his toes doesn’t even register due to shock. Lance whirls around to see where he came from but is met with water stretching far into the horizon. He can’t see Lotor anywhere, not even a trace of Galra tech.

He inhales, takes in the smell of the ocean and the beach. Tears rush up behind his eyes and he can’t contain the small laugh in his throat. A gentle breeze greets him, ruffles up his hair and cuts through the thin prisoner clothes he’s wearing. It feels amazing, soothing the heat of standing out in the glaring sun for just a moment.

“Lance?” A soft voice calls and his heart all but stops as he turns around. His chest clutches, meeting the surprised face of his mother. She’s carrying one of his younger cousins, too young to even have hair on her head. Even the baby looks surprised to see Lance there.

Lance can’t even bear to ask if it’s really her, he knows. He _knows._  He rushes to meet her, even standing a good head taller than her, he feels as if he fits perfectly against her. He’s sobbing, babbling on and on about how much he missed her, how much he loves her. The floodgates have opened and there’s not hope in Lance closing them.

His poor cousin is crying as well, but not from joy like Lance, she’s upset at being squished between the two people. It’s honestly the best thing Lance has heard in a long time. He used to hate hearing babies cry, having to be woken up to them all the time when he was still living at home but after being in space for almost two years, where no noise reaches far in the vacuum, Lance loves hearing her cry. It’s grounding, it makes him feel warm.

His mother is crying now too, asking if Lance is okay. Not where have you been, not I heard you went missing, no. She only wishes to know if her son is alright and then, if he’s hungry. Hearing his mother ask him that causes Lance to shove his face into her hair and sob. He nods dumbly, for a lack of anything to say. He can’t say no to anything his mother would ask him now, not when he feels so terribly raw and vulnerable. She ushers him across the yard and into the house, wooden porch squeaking as they walk across it. It’s almost too much for Lance to handle, he can’t believe he’s home just like this.

When they walk into the house, Lance isn’t too surprised to see his entire family there in the living room. The kids are playing on the floor, adults are chattering on the couch or standing, others are watching the tv in the corner, teenagers sit wedged where they can texting. But upon his entrance they all look at him and clutter in close. He smiles and laughs with each head pat and huge and loving kiss on the cheek.

They talk and talk and talk for what seems like hours to Lance before his mother shoos everyone away, talking about lunch having to be made. Lance won’t complain with that.

Lance and his mother gather into the kitchen, his mom talking away while his cousin crawls on the floor and clutches at Lance’s pants leg to stand up. He smiles and picks her up at her insistence, her pushing on his knees. He rests his forehead against the small window while he cradles her, listens to his mother talk and cut through vegetables while the soft drone of voices from the living room flood in.

He turns his head to look out at the rolling waves and almost drops his baby cousin in shock at seeing Lotor standing out beyond the fenceline. He’s just standing there, hands clasped behind his back and staring directly at Lance. His gaze is unsettling and Lance is uncomfortable with it while in his own home. It makes him feel sick, scared about why he’s here, how he’s here. Oh. Right, Lance thinks, the teleporter.

Lance quickly makes an excuse about needing some air to his mother, wanting to go outside for a moment and she agrees, telling him to come right back in once he was done. He leaves through the back screen-door to not bring attention to himself. Lance feels strange walking farther and farther from his home, he glances back once, to make sure it’s still there. He can see his mother still in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a few more people coming in to join her.

“Having fun?” Lotor asks conversationally, a pleased smile on his face as he looks past Lance. Immediately Lance blocks the prince's gaze, standing there in front of him with a scowl.

“What do you want?”

“Why don’t you show me around your home? I’m so anxious to meet the family.” Lotor makes a move like he is about to step around Lance but the paladin shoots his hand out, grabs Lotor by the wrist. His grip is like iron, dare Lotor think it be bruising. He’s shocked by the action, even more so when he looks into Lance’s eyes and finds a hot gaze, murderous.

“If you touch my family, there won’t be a single device your druids can make that will keep me from your life.” He snarls.

Lotor blinks, again in shock before he hides it away. He smiles and steps back closer to Lance.

“Is that so?”

Lotor grabs hold of Lance’s chin. In the dingy room, Lotor watches light dance in Lance’s eyes, his gaze off somewhere behind the wall where he believes his family is. He looks concerned, maybe that they might see him like this.

Lotor could easily make that a reality, he would root through Lance’s memories a bit more to discover reactions for each person important to him. But that is not the point Lotor is going to be making here.

“You shouldn’t make threats, Lance.”

Lotor smiles again, changing the illusion. In a split moment the house behind the both of them is engulfed in flames. Lance shouts and completely forgets about Lotor, he rips himself free from Lotor and tears across the yard in attempt to get inside. He never reaches, the windows from the kitchen blow out, sending a gust of hot air out.

Lotor watches from the side, off along an empty wall as Lance drops to his knees with a thud and screams. There’s something blocking him from getting inside the house to save anyone. He sits there, helpless, and screams. And screams.

Keeping up the illusion for Lance over a long period of time is exhausting for Lotor. He has to maintain concentration, the screams and sobs don’t help. No matter how Lance begs and cries, Lotor maintains it.

Lance breaks. It isn’t something physical that Lotor can see or smell or hear. It’s through their link that Lotor feels Lance’s resistance slip away after hours of sitting in this room. It must have been hours like this.

Lotor finally approaches, touches Lance’s shoulder. Lance doesn’t even flinch, head hung and hands limp in his lap. He’s staring down at the floor unfocused and unseeing. He’s completely exhausted, spent.

Lotor finally takes the illusion away, allows Lance to see the bland grey walls and dimly illuminated room that they never left. Still, with this revelation, Lance stays where he is.

Lotor takes Lance by the chin and lifts his face, brushes his thumb gently through the tracks tears left behind.

“Understand me here and now, paladin. I know everything about you, about your family, about your planet. I can so easily take it all away from you. You don’t want that do you? You want them safe?”

Lance nods numbly. His chest hurts, his throat is raw, and he knows he should be mad, should be making threats. But, god, he’s scared, afraid of Lotor finding those he loves.

That fear never leaves, not as the hours tick by and the days pass. It looms over him like a heavy reminder. If he steps out of line, it’s all over.

Easily, with Lotor having that hold over him Lance doesn’t need the strong guidance of the druid’s device anymore. He will willingly sink to his knees for Lotor, no matter the situation or if there are others around. When Lance grows defiant, all Lotor has to mention is the safety of his family and Lance submits.

It’s almost too easy.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to be so long!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AH!


End file.
